


Speakerbox

by derangedfangirl



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: M/M, drabblethon 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derangedfangirl/pseuds/derangedfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn't get the part.  Obviously."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speakerbox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlysutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/gifts).



I didn’t get the part.  Obviously.  So after the whole Christmas debacle, I was out of money, out of the hospital, and out of a job.  Now, I coulda gone back to stealing shit, but to be honest, it seemed like a kinda terrible plan to try to put together a heist when I still had a fractured collarbone.  Also I didn’t wanna get shot again.  Perry offered to front me the money for a plane ticket back to New York, but frankly, since he’d already paid some ungodly sum for my medical bills, it didn’t really feel right to accept.  Especially because we both knew I’d never pay it back.    
  
So I got a job.  At Jack in the Box.  
  
I was working drive-through, doing everything by rote, y’know, because it’s not the most mentally engaging job ever, even if I didn’t finish high school.  
  
“That’ll be twelve-fifty, sir, please pull forward.”  
  
The speaker-box crackled, and I went to fill up a small diet coke, which seemed odd since the guy ordering had a deep voice, like he was around my age, but whatever, it was LA.  He’d also ordered his burger with no bun or mayo.    
  
“Harry, what the fuck?”  
  
 I wheeled around, forgetting about the drink.  And there was Perry Van Shrike, in his snazzy little convertible, a twenty dangling from his fingers like he didn’t quite remember it was there.    
  
“Heeeya, Perry,” I said brightly, giving him a stupid little wave.  
  
“Jack in the Box?”  
  
I looked down at my uniform for confirmation.  “Yup.”  
  
“What time do you get off?” And that was pure Van Shrike, all business, wiping his tinted shades on the edge of his shirt.    
  
“Uh… Nine.”  
  
He nodded and took his food.  
  
“Thanks and come again!” I called with as much irony as I could (without being fired) as he pulled away.  
  
Perry picked me up that night.  He said, “Khaki isn’t really your color,” nose all wrinkled like something smelled bad, which it probably did since I was pretty sure I was sweating burger grease at that point.  

 

“Nope.”  
  
He cleared his throat and fiddled with the air conditioner.  “Look,” he said gruffly, “My case-load is heavy this time of year.  I could use an assistant.  Filing, answering phones, that sort of thing.  You did some good work on that case-” he kindly avoided mentioning that I got him shot, which I thought good of him, “You interested?”  
  
“Do I have to wear a uniform?”  
  
He rolled his eyes.  “No, Harry.  You just have to be clean and look like a respectable human being.”  
  
I tried to ignore the hopeful excitement bubbling up in my gut, tried to sound cool and not like I was desperate to not flip any more burgers and maybe have some money for groceries and not have to eat the leftover chicken fingers my manager handed me under the table every night, and also I was pretty positive that Perry would pay me enough to at least get a motel without obvious roach infestations.    
  
“I mean, yeah, that’d be cool.  Thanks, Perry.”  
  
He didn’t mention the grin I hid behind my hand, just smiled a little and turned on the radio.   
  



End file.
